


Shatter

by honeydewed



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, I'll add more tags later, Kidnapping, Male-Female Friendship, One-Sided Attraction, Revenge is best served together, Teenagers, The rarest of brotps, What's this? A multi chapter fic?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeydewed/pseuds/honeydewed
Summary: Therion and Darius find an abandoned cart and steal it, but there's something remarkable inside.
Relationships: Darius & Therion (Octopath Traveler), Primrose Azelhart & Therion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	1. Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> In Darius and Therion's past when they're in gaol, it looks like they were in Saintsbridge which is why the story takes place here. It's only a stone's throw away from both The Cliftlands and Sunlands. I've been thinking about this story a lot too and finally decided to write it. 
> 
> Therion and Primrose both handle betrayal excellently in their respective stories. I just kept thinking about what if they found each other earlier in their tale and had to write this. 
> 
> I have no affiliation with Octopath Traveler and don't own the characters, this work is purely for my entertainment. Thank you for reading!

At the tender age of thirteen, Therion's stolen his first cart.

Fortune favors the bold and Lady Luck's dropped a grand opportunity in his lap. He and Darius watch completely dumbfounded as a driver and his traveling companion leave the cart with the horse still hitched to it waltz straight into the alehouse! "Let's take it," one of them suggests aloud. Therion isn't sure if it's him with such a brazen idea or Darius taking the lead with his confidence. Maybe it's said by both at the same time but Therion's excited at the prospect.

Sitting beside his Darius, his best friend, while the older boy holds the reigns and races away makes Therion's heart pound with joy. It's a rush he's never felt before and as the wild wind greets his snow-colored hair and pushes back the thick red curls Darius sports Therion lets out an elated cry. The road's bumpy, Therion's rump leaves the seat more times than he can count. No wonder the birds constantly take to the air, if flying's half as fun it's addicting. "I can't believe those whoreson's!" Darius crows and cracks the reigns loud as thunder. "They're idiots!" The hooves of the horse keeps rhythm on the bridge.

West of town is a grim forest. It's so dark even in the day, light won't penetrate the thick canopy. "Whoa!" Darius cries as he yanks back at the reigns. The horse stops while the creaking wheels grind to a halt. "We ditch this cart, carry what we can," Darius lays out the plan jabbing his thumb over his shoulder he says, "I'll take a look at what we got, aye?"

"You got it, partner," Therion slides off his seat. He decides to let the horse go, they can't walk back into town with it. Maybe it will wander back into town on its own or maybe a wild beast will get it, but he hopes for the former. "Thanks," Therion says as he unhitches the horse and slaps his wrapped hand against the beast's hindquarters.

The horse runs out of the forest without looking back.

No one ventures into the forest at night. Only fools, Therion smirks, or thieves. No guards stand post on the bridge at night despite lowlives slinking across it under the cover of darkness. If they stay by the cart until morning they'll be tossed into gaol, again. Hell, maybe even be tossed beneath it for being so utterly audacious. "Ain't too bad for a couple of tea leaves, huh?" Darius asks as he pries open a crate. Whatever's inside makes his eyes shine with greed. Therion doesn't hear him say it but he can practically hear "jackpot."

Therion jumps into the back of the cart. A deep plum chest that has to be just as big as he is positioned behind the driver's seat. Darius avoids picking locks when he can but Therion loves a challenge. Fetching the reliable tools from inside his poncho he picks the lock, listening to the clicking of cylinders and gears. It's the biggest chest Therion's ever seen and he's enticed by whatever's inside. Grinning once the lock gives he tosses up the lid flippantly and peers in.

Biting back the urge to shout he slams it shut and scrambles into Darius.

"What's inside?" Darius takes off his cowl and wraps a fine silk dress diagonally across his body. Another crate he opened houses fine jewels and he pockets them in a makeshift pouch and ties another dress on the other side to secure it and make another pocket. Therion doesn't answer so Darius turns to see Therion pale as a sheet. Darius demands as his nose crinkles, "What's inside?"

"Darius," Therion clutches his friend's arm as he hisses. "It's a dead body."

"S'wounds!" Darius tuts and shakes his head. "Ain't that a shame." He examines a garnet ring and puts it on his thumb. "Hurry up, we got a lot to take." He flips Therion's poncho over his face and begins to wrap some fine silk on the other boy.

"I'm serious!" Therion shoves his poncho back into place and bristles. Darius tosses a yard of silk around Therion's neck like a second scarf. "Stop that!" Therion slaps at Darius' hand. He points to the chest and hisses, "What do we do about it?"

"What do you suppose we do, huh?" The question flummoxes Therion. "Waltz straight into the headman's house and say we found a body in the cart we filched?" Darius shoves Therion back roughly, back towards the chest.

Anger clamps Therion's mouth shut and he shakes his head. Darius picks the crates clean. Death isn't a pretty sight, Therion's seen it before. Most corpses look rotten or stiff. The girl in the makeshift coffin reminds Therion of a story he heard once when he'd still been in an orphanage. Before he took to the streets a Sister would read to them once a week, until one day she didn't come, Therion sighs through his nose.

No one would mourn him if he died. Darius might, but one less thief in the world would make it a better place.

"Peace to you," he closes his eyes as his hand reaches to the lid. He can't bury the corpse.

A pale hand shoots from the glum chest and grasps Therion's wrist. Therion can't help it, he screams. Tears prick his eyes and he knows he's sinned far too much for his young age. None of the gods will take his soul, and he'll die because he and Darius disturbed the cart. At the age of thirteen, he'll breathe his last breath.

Darius slaps his hand over Therion's mouth and keeps close to him. "Shut-" he's cut short when the corpse turns.

It's a girl.

A girl with skin as pale as porcelain. Her hair twists and curls, nut-brown and lovely. Her lips are red as garnets and she too is dressed in the same shade. Her eyes are a color Therion can't see they're closed and she mumbles something. "...-elp..."

"A corpse," Darius hits the back of Therion's head. "You dullard, you made enough noise to wake the dead. That's exactly what you did. Hurry up!"

Someone put a girl in a chest. Therion's eyes sweep to the crates. All lady's things. Why on earth would a little lady be stuffed into a chest? Darius sweeps up more items and hops off the cart. "Oi, take what you can carry!" Darius doesn't even wait for Therion to leave the cart. He'll either make it back to camp or not.

"Darius! Wait," he feels her grip relax and her hand drops. Her cheek's against a cushioned floor. 

"...Elp..."

It's a quiet plea from the girl. Her eyes are still closed. He heard about girls being taken to all the corners of Osterra to work in brothels. Could it be this girl's been the victim of a kidnapping?

Blurry eyes open just a bit and he catches tears in her eyes. "Help...Please..." 

He swallows and secures some more silk on his person and lifts the girl from the treasure chest. She's heavy, heavier than anything he's ever carried before and he curses himself for letting the horse go so soon.

The girl slumps against his back and murmurs, "Please...Please..." Darius said he can take what he can carry. He wraps silk around his waist and ties her against him. Looping his arms underneath her legs he hunches forward so she doesn't fall over. His steps are uncertain and at times Therion's knees buckle but he can carry her.

Camp is only used when the boys need to lay low in Saintsbridge. It's not fit to be a proper home for the boys but it works well enough for when they can't go into town. They might try to sneak back in when the sunsets or tomorrow morning.

Daylight's come because the birds start chirping as the boys sort through their goods. They know who will purchase what, and what to hold onto for a rainy day. The dresses are the first thing they can sell as well as the un-cut cloth. Jewelry raises questions but they'll make leaves off them. The fools had enough mind to take their coin purses into the alehouse.

Darius hides some jewelry beneath a rock by a tree he thinks Therion's never noticed.

Therion's leaning against a different tree watching the girl.

The girl's crumpled against the ground. Therion supposes she'd been given a sleeping potion of some kind so she'd be still in the chest. She looks too well fed to have been sold by a desperate starving family. Her hands are elegant but full of callouses and no one had the good presence of mind to take the dagger brazenly displayed on her hip. Maybe she'd been kidnapped and there's a father with deep, generous, rich pockets waiting for his darling girl to be returned. Maybe the father's tired of his little girl and would rather she vanish. Assassinating a child wouldn't be hard, would it?

The girl shoots up slamming her hands against the grass as she pushes herself up. Looking about wildly she finally settles on Therion. "Good morning," says the thief to the maiden. He cuts off a section of apple and eats it feigning disinterest but offers her a piece.

The girl scrambles back, lethargic and brings her hand to her head, she doesn't even touch the dagger. "Don't," she draws her legs up close to her curling in on herself, "Don't come near!" 

"Now, ain't you a fine bird?" Darius whistles appreciatively. "What's wrong, girlie?" He stands up and Therion mumbles his name as a warning. "Don't like our company?" He spits in the girl's direction. "Same as everybody else, aye Therion? Judges us before she even knows a lick about us."

She flushes a deep color and keeps close to the ground like a dire wolf hidden in her den.

"We found the cart," Therion says quickly. "You were sleeping inside."

"Sleeping?" she draws her hands away from her face. Holding her head high she regards the thieves like a true-born lady with nobility shining from within. The superiority she holds turns Therion's stomach. "You, found me in a cart and I was asleep?" her words are slow like she's still waking. 

"The pretty ones are always stupid ain't they?" Darius asks and whistles again in a higher pitch, the same way one would call for a dog. "Oi! Therion, let's go we've got work to do." He motions to his partner. 

Therion brings himself to his feet. It's stupid for them to try to go back to Saintsbridge while the theft is still fresh. He places his hand on his hip, "We can leave you here if you want or we can stay. It's up to you."

She stands suddenly, and he has to tilt his chin up to look at her. She's a tall, lithe thing like the willow trees in the Riverlands. "Wait," the girl says and she steps forward. "Don't," her voice hitches. "Don't leave me alone."

They don't leave her.

Truthfully, they know walking back into town now and away from their camp would be a fruitless endeavor. He's glad to stay out in the woods for a day or two even if it's frightening. She doesn't need to know that of course. Darius lies easily and spins her a tale about he and Therion were trying to find game in the woods and found the cart abandoned. It'd been stripped of everything within and the lock to the chest was busted open but she was still inside. He tells her they brought her back to camp and were planning on going into town.

The whole time, the girl says nothing. A distressed look takes up permanent residence on her face. She's as helpless as a baby bird of the nest, Therion's sure a girl like her will never survive on her own. "You can come with us when we go into Saintsbridge," he suggests and she almost smiles. 

Darius glowers.

Her name is Primrose, Therion learns by the fireside, and he learns she's a truly lovely girl. Her cheeks are full blooming like red roses and lips the same shade as the skin of delicious apples. She's coy and tentative with her own inquiries and asks him if he and his partner's ever seen a man with the mark of a crow. She frowns when he says no. 

He's cared about Darius for years. He's the first person that ever truly gave a shit about what happens to him so Therion cares about him. Because Therion's a parasite he cares about himself the most. It behooves him to look after his own tail and keep his best interest in mind. 

It could be because he found her but he wants to keep her safe. He wants to take care of her.

It's nighttime when Darius finally falls asleep. 

"The man with the mark of the crow on his left arm, he took me," she says starkly and crosses her arms around her legs. Her chin's pointing towards her chest. "The man with the mark of the crow on his neck," she chokes out. "He..." Tears prick her eyes as she can't bring herself to open up the wound. Her tears haven't dried up when she growls out, "Him, the others I can kill but the one with the mark on his neck. I'll make sure for him, it's slow. I'll make sure he suffers."

Therion doesn't expect a willowy girl like her to do anything to anyone anytime soon. 

"Sure," he says while he tries not to smile. "You know how to handle that thing?" He nods to the dagger on her hip. 

"Better than you," she wipes the tears from her eyes. "Thank you," she says finally. "For not prying."

"Hey, they're your secrets, not mine," he reasons. "And if you don't tell me your tragic backstory, maybe I won't have to tell you mine." 

That earns a smile from her, "Deal." The wistful way she says it makes him wonder if it's something she'd like to forget. 

Maybe he'll find out one day, for not it's enough for Therion to sit side by side with her in his camp. 


	2. Rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio finds a rhythm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've updated this, so I appreciate your patience. The shack they're staying in is the one Miguel was holed up in. 
> 
> I have no affiliation with Octopath Traveler and don't own the characters, this work is purely for my entertainment. Thank you for reading!

The three of them fall into a predictable pattern. It's as faithful as the people convening to the Flame to pray and poised as the pure river water rushing over the even stones. They're crepuscular creatures. The garish morning light is too glaring for them to openly perform their crafts and fill up their hollow stomachs. Twilight's welcoming arms pull out the less palatable citizens of Saintsbridge, them included. 

A little lean-to hut deserted for only Aeber knows how long is their habitat. The floor's a nest suitable for rats and ruffians like him and Darius. It's no place for a lady, yet Primrose sheathes herself up in the coarse burlap cloth and sinks into a place the morning light lulls her to sleep. Therion slumbers amidst Darius and Primrose his back to his partner. 

At night sometimes Primrose contorts tangled in a nightmare as tears prick her eyes. He's stirred awake by her broken breaths and the wretched way she cradles herself. He stretches out his deft hand and holds hers until she drifts back to sleep.

When they awaken she never describes her dreams. She never says who "Simeon" is and bites into the ripe flesh of whatever fruit he's gotten his hands on. He feeds her the sweetest fruit he eyes and sometimes he's greedy to find an object that will make her smile. If he can fill her stomach up with sweetness and encompass her with something beautiful perhaps he can chase away the memories of Crows. 

As the sun sets they either travel together in a pack like dire wolves hunting for prey. Primrose plays the part of a victim, a hapless lass either knocked down by a noble or a wide-eyed waif fruitlessly searching for a lost object. All eyes are on her and she easily slips into the role of a performer. He and Darius pickpocket whatever helpless person that's fallen into their trap. Like magpies they collect anything that sparkles. They fill their palms with leaves and anything fine they can shove into their pockets. Darius always gives a signal, discreetly for Therion and Primrose to notice. Then they're off. Down the streets where no guards or headmen can follow. Into the alleyways and into the shadows they hide. 

Darius is the oldest. He's always been a big lad, even when they were little, and his eyes have always looked old to Therion. Maturity makes it easier for merchants and peddlers to trust him, and he sells the items they've stolen. The role of a merchant's son suits him better than he or Primrose surely. 

The scar on Therion's face makes him less approachable. His face isn't as friendly as his partner's and it's certainly not as comely as Primrose's. He's never been in the spotlight nor thought to embrace it, but Primrose thrives in it. 

When they part, he finds her footsteps and follows them. She's too young to dance in taverns so she takes to street corners, listening to a song in her head as she twists and twirls. 

There's no reason for her to stay with them. A girl like her can easily explain her situation to some bleeding heart and have pity taken upon her. She didn't have a leaf to her name when they found her but she's earned her keep. 

"Do you like watching me dance?" she asks one evening her hands behind her back as she skips a few paces ahead of him. She turns on the ball of her foot and almost smiles. A melancholy fills her, blue as the rivers around them and just as cold. Any smile Therion receives from her is just like the river, coy and cool. 

She spotted him in a crowd as people tossed leaves into an old hat she'd found. He's tucked it away in his poncho now keeping it quiet as he steps forward. He smiled as she danced and he sees no point in lying, "Yes."

"Ha," it's a sharp cry like a bird. Nothing at all like a laugh and the smile Primrose makes doesn't quite reach her eyes. Can Primrose laugh, he wonders, and then he thinks when was the last time he laughed genuinely? 

There's no friendly candlelight to greet them in their shack. Darius is out, probably at a tavern swindling some poor fool out of his wages with a rigged game or easy conversation. Therion's too short to be allowed in, he doesn't feel so short when he and Primrose are crossed legged in the dark shack. Her feet hurt at the end of the day and she rubs them her thumbs pressing into the sore spots. He isn't used to the company, but he doesn't mind her presence. 

Darius finds his way back at the break of dawn. The morning star shining bright behind him as he closes the door and squirrels away his quarry. He shoves a barrel in front of the door and locks it. "What'd you lot make today?" he yawns and flops onto his side indolently. 

Therion jabs his thumb to a chest they've been filling up slowly but surely but neglects to tell him about the leaves in his pockets. There's little honor among them even if they are partners. 

Primrose leans up on her elbows and shows off a necklace. "There's coins in the chest," now that they're together it's time to sleep. 

"S'nice," Darius praises with a lazy smile. 

"Good morning," Primrose says dryly and sinks into her makeshift bed. 

Therion reaches out to her. 

Her finger loops around his and she closes her eyes. 

"Good morning," Therion parrots and swears he already hears Darius snoring. 

Therion's life has never been rosy, but if he had to bet on it he's sure he'd never had such happy days. He'd be a lucky man to keep living them. 


End file.
